Do You Remember
by Captain Splendid
Summary: Do you remember? We said we'd run away together, holding onto one another. Jate AU.


**This is an AU Jate story, taking place in their teen and early adult years.**

**"Do You Remember?" by The Summer Obsession, which inspired this story, is quoted in the summary. Obviously I don't own it, so…yeah. I don't own Lost either, for that matter, despite all of my schemes to make it mine. Shame, really.**

**Anyway, here is the first part of Do You Remember. Enjoy!**

* * *

The sun sunk lower below the horizon, dying the sky brilliant shades of orange and causing partially leafless trees to cast long shadows on to the ground. A gust of bitter wind blew through, whipping around netting that was secured by metal goal frames, and forcing a tall boy to gallantly fight back a shiver. He was dressed somewhat inadequately for the weather; his jeans, stylishly tattered, and his black athletic sneakers were suitable, but the boy's muscular upper half was protected by only a plain navy blue t-shirt, more second skin than anything else. Still, he was determinedly ignoring the cold, the frown on his face and fire in his usually calm brown eyes hinting at an anger that lay just below the surface. Then, suddenly, 

"We need to get the hell away from this place."

It was more statement than exclamation, as though it were merely an observation. The boy gave no rationalization behind his words but instead glanced at the girl sitting next to him; she remained silent and stared out at the empty soccer field wordlessly, shifting her body closer to his on the cold metal bleachers. The girl was a good head shorter than the boy, but appeared much smaller due to the sweatshirt she was wearing. The black hoodie was a few sizes too large for her and if she had been standing, it would have fallen to mid-thigh. Her hands and most of her forearms were tucked snugly in the front pouch pocket to keep them warm. The name 'Jack' was embroidered in white script on the sweatshirt's left breast side. On the back, 'SHEPHARD' was screen printed in white block letters between the shoulders; the middle displayed the outline of a large soccer ball surrounded by the words 'Garden State Soccer League'.

"I am just so sick of everything," the boy spat out bitterly. His companion smiled humorlessly at the use of the clichéd teenage complaint. Seeing this, the boy rolled his eyes. "I mean it, Kate! Who the hell is he, to tell me what to do?" His cheeks, already flushed red from the harsh fall wind, appeared to glow redder as his irritation grew.

"Jack…he is your father," said Kate softly, hesitantly. The comment would only aggravate him more, but she knew he needed to vent his anger now; better that he yell it all out to the abandoned park than hold it in and snap later that night; no good would come from shouting at his father, especially twice in one day. "And it's just football," she added, wincing. He wouldn't be happy with that (completely untrue) comment.

* * *

Jack had always wanted to play football. Even as a young child, the sport had held a certain appeal to him. Kate remembered that for weeks leading up to his sixth birthday, all Jack had asked his parents for was a football. Finally, the big day had come. Jack sat on the floor of his living room, surrounded by his friends, and Christian Shephard had placed a nicely wrapped, medium sized present in front of his newly six year old son. Grinning hugely, Jack had ripped eagerly into the wrapping paper, torn open the box, and pulled out a brand new, shiny, regulation size… 

…soccer ball. And then, as his son's face fell, Christian had calmly and rationally explained that he wanted Jack to play soccer. 'All Shephard men play soccer,' he had said. 'Just like they're all doctors. It's tradition.'

Later that same day, while their friends played in the spacious back yard with the new soccer ball (yelling at a five year old Sawyer that he needed to share, or they were going to tell his mommy), and while Jack's mom yelled at his dad in the kitchen, Kate had drawn and colored a picture of a football for her teary best friend. To this day, almost nine years later, it hung on the bulletin board over the desk in Jack's room…he reasoned that it was the closest he would ever get to the game he loved.

* * *

"I don't care that the stupid ass is my father! And it is not 'just football'! Whose side are you on, anyway?" Jack practically growled. She was agreeing with his father, of all people? The only person that they hated more than his father was Wayne. 

"You know I'm always on your side," Kate said firmly, a trace of hurt in her voice.

"Then why the hell-" Jack broke off suddenly, realization dawning on his face. "You're doing it again," he accused, turning his head to look at Kate. She steadfastly ignored his gaze, continuing to observe the playing field that was rapidly being shrouded in darkness.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. You're doing it again, aren't you? That whole 'make-Jack-mad-so-he-gets-it-all-out-before-he-goes-home' thing."

"I think you're delusional," Kate stated, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jack scowled. "Oh, don't act all innocent. I can read you like a book."

"Oh no," Kate said in an exaggerated monotonous voice. "I have been found out. Whatever shall I do?"

The anger faded from Jack's face, temporarily replaced. "I think…you'd better run," he said in a calm voice that didn't match the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don't." Kate warned, the half grin on her face taking away any seriousness that the statement held.

Jack smirked. "One..." he said slowly.

"Seriously Jack, don't." She slid away from him slightly, readying herself.

"Two…" His hands began to reach for her sides.

"Don't."

Jack leaned towards her. "Two and a half…" he whispered, smirk threatening to split his face.

Kate ran.

Jumping the three rows of bleachers below them, she landed on the ground with a slight stumble before taking off towards the center of the field, wavy brown hair blowing behind her wildly as her sneakers crunched on fallen leaves.

Jack waited for a beat before yelling out "Three!" at Kate's retreating back. Then, grinning hugely, he repeated her action and vaulted over the bottom rows of bleachers. Landing gracefully, Jack sprinted after Kate, running so fast that the cold air stung his face and arms. He saw her outline up ahead, barely visible in the semi-darkness. Kate glanced back at him once, laughing, and Jack laughed too before speeding up his pursuit.

Kate was fast, but Jack had years of soccer training in his favor; he had strong legs and a fluid runner's stride, the only hindrance existing in the form of his shoelaces. No matter how hard Jack tried, no matter how tightly he tied the double and triple knots, they always came undone- much to his father's immense displeasure.

Nearing the large circle that marked the center of the field, Kate thought she heard Jack falling behind. 'Probably tripped on his shoelaces,' she thought to herself, smirking and slowing down a step or two.

"Gotcha!"

Kate squealed in surprise as Jack grabbed her from behind, throwing his arms loosely around her waist. "Watcha gonna do now, Kate?" he whispered in her ear with a smile, poking her in the side and feeling her squirm. Not answering, Kate twisted to the left, planning to escape and make him chase her some more. The plan worked to some extent…she made it about two running steps with Jack following inches behind. Then, before she knew what was happening, Kate was tripping and falling.

Kate landed on her back, hitting the ground with a thud. There was then another thud as Jack landed on top of her.

Jack grinned at her, their noses centimeters apart. "Hi Kate!" he said cheekily.

Kate gaped at him for a minute before coming to her senses and rolling her eyes. "How did we get here?"

"We rode our bikes, remember?" Jack said, playing dumb. "They're over by the-"

"Not here to the field!" Kate rolled her eyes again at Jack's antics. "Idiot," she muttered fondly. "I mean here, on the ground. How did I end up on the ground with you squishing me?"

"Yeah, sorry about that…you did break the fall nicely though!" Jack beamed and moved his forearms on either side of Kate, resting the majority of his weight on them. "And as for how we got here…it's a funny thing, actually."

"Hilarious, I'm sure."

"You stepped on my shoelaces."

"So?"

"So…it made me trip. Naturally, I grabbed onto the closest thing."

"Naturally."

"I detect a hint of sarcasm, Kate."

"Oh you do, do you?"

Jack nodded in the affirmative before sitting up, his knees resting on either side of Kate's waist. "That's not a very good thing for someone in your position to be doing. If you'll remember correctly, I was in fact chasing you for a reason. And now you appear to be caught and fully at my mercy." He grinned down at her.

"But you didn't actually catch me! It's all because of your stupid shoelaces! So, really, you should let me go."

Jack pretended to ponder that for a minute. But only for a minute. "Nope. Sorry, but your argument is weak. Therefore, I win." Then, grinning wickedly, he dug his fingers into Kate's side and began tickling her mercilessly.

"Jack!" Laughing uncontrollably, Kate tried squirming away, but Jack put more of his weight on her, effectively pinning her to the ground. "Jack!...Stop it!...You're going to…kill me!" Kate gasped out between laughter.

"Then say it!"

"Say…what?"

"You know perfectly well what. We've only done this a hundred times!"

"…Football sucks?"

Jack laughed even harder. "Not exactly the answer I was looking for." With that, he redoubled his efforts, moving his hands under the hem of Kate's sweatshirt to continue tickling her through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

"Alright!" Kate breathed out, tears of laughter running down her cheeks. "I give." Jack moved his hands away with a grin and looked at her expectantly.

Sighing, Kate took a deep breath and gave Jack what he wanted. "Football is the best sport in the whole world and Jack Shephard, if given the proper opportunity, would be the best football player in the whole world; as is, Jack Shephard is the best soccer player in the whole world, despite the fact that him playing it in the first place was all his father's stupid, stupid idea." she droned with the air of one who's had to memorize and repeat the exact phrase many times before.

Jack grinned and pecked Kate on the forehead before rolling off to lie on his back next to her, the entire lengths of their bodies touching. "That's my girl."

Kate bumped Jack's shoulder playfully with hers. "I would have gotten away, you know."

"Of course."

"It's all the fault of your damn shoelaces."

"I know. Shoelaces are the work of the devil; I've been telling people that for years."

Kate giggled the sincerity Jack put in his last statement. "And it really wasn't fair, tickling me," she continued. "Your hands are freezing."

"Well, maybe my hands wouldn't be freezing if someone hadn't jacked my sweatshirt," Jack pointed out, nudging Kate in the side for emphasis.

Kate sobered up at that. "Jack, I'm sorry. I'll give it back, you should have said-"

"Kate, relax. I was just kidding."

"But you're cold."

"I'm fine. Besides, I'd rather be cold than have you be cold. Keep it."

"Okay." Kate snuggled closer to Jack's side. "But you're not getting it back anytime soon."

Jack breathed a laugh but then fell silent, staring up at the darkening sky. Needing something to distract him from his thoughts, Jack picked up Kate's hand in his own, laying them flat against each other, smiling slightly at how small her hand was against his own. He continued to play, his hand and hers, lacing and unlacing their fingers, drawing designs on her palm with his pinkie, tracing the outline of her hand with his pointer finger.

"Jack?"

He tilted his head towards Kate slightly to indicate that he was listening, but continued to toy with their fingers.

"I'm sorry he won't let you play football. I know how much it means to you."

Jack sighed heavily and let their clasped hands drop between them. "It's hardly even about the football anymore," he murmured, still looking up at the sky. "I figured out when I was six years old that it wasn't going to happen for me. It's just- Do you know he has my whole life planned out?" Jack asked angrily. "Everything. He decided before I was born that I'm going to be a doctor, so he's got it all worked around that. Classes I need to take. Extra curriculars that must be on my college applications. Med schools I have to apply to. And of course the soccer," he bit out. "Because that's what he played when he was a kid and God forbid I'm not exactly like him." he paused to catch his breath. Kate squeezed his hand gently, a sign that she was still listening. "I don't want to be like him," Jack whispered finally, voice shaking. "I don't… I don't ever want to be like him."

"You don't have to be. You'll figure this out, find a way to get what you want, instead of what he wants. Your mom's on your side, at least."

"Yeah, my mom's great; she's everything he's not, so I can't be mad at her…even though she won't stand up to him. Not that it would do any good," he added bitterly.

"At least…" Kate chewed on her lip nervously. "At least he cares about you, Jack. I mean, he obviously doesn't display it in the best ways, but I think that he really does heave your best interests at heart." Jack made a sharp sound of protest. "I'm not defending him or anything, Jack, but…just be happy he's not like Wayne," she finished, shuddering at having to use her stepfather's name.

Jack sighed. "I know. But it doesn't give him the right to control my life. And he's still a bastard." Kate giggled at Jack's matter-of-fact tone. "And while we're on the topic of Supreme Bastards of America," he continued acidly, "how is our resident card-carrying member, dearest Wayne, behaving?"

"Same old, same old," Kate answered with measured carefulness. She touched the side of her face gingerly, unseen by Jack.

"Still a drunken idiot, then; it's comforting to know some things never change," Jack muttered sarcastically. Then, in a gentler tone, "When's your dad getting back from overseas?"

"Dunno."

Jack heard the sadness in her voice and decided not to press the subject of her father. He sighed loudly. "You and me, Katie. We've got some issues, don't we?"

Kate was silent, staring up at the sky, but her grip on his hand tightened. Jack decided that was answer enough and closed his eyes, knowing that he would have to go home and face his father soon.

"First star."

Jack, broken from his thoughts, opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Kate. "Huh?"

Kate took her free hand and pointed, almost directly above them. "First star," she repeated softly. Jack followed where she was pointing, and the night's first star was in fact visible. "Make a promise, Jack," she whispered.

Jack chuckled quietly. "I think it's 'make a wish'."

Kate shook her head against the ground. "I don't care. Promises are better than wishes anyway." She scooted closer to Jack and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she put hers tightly around his waist. "So make a promise."

"Okay," he whispered. He played with Kate's hair for a minute, thinking carefully; Jack wasn't one to make promises he couldn't keep. "I promise…" he began softly, "I promise that one day we will get away from here. And…we'll go somewhere, anywhere, where no one can tell us who we should be. It'll be great," he whispered. "You can take pictures, just like you've always wanted and I…I can be anything other then a doctor; I don't really care what. And the best part is that it'll be just us. Just me and you." Jack glanced Kate. "How's that?"

"Sounds good to me," Kate whispered, eyes closed. She hugged him tighter. "Just me and you."

* * *

**End of chapter 1.**

**Please review! And let me know if I should continue!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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